Monday 31st December 1807

Dear Diary,
Mr Ashforth has given me crabs! A package arrived this very morning, which he must have sent from the coast as he embarked for the Continent with Titus Canby. An attached note read ' A small token of my esteem'. I went straight to the Scullery and said " Mrs Crutchlow, Mr Ashforth has given me crabs. How would you deal with them?" She flushed for a moment and wrung her hands in her apron before replying, "Well Mr Austen, Sir, I would use a lotion." I was taken aback somewhat and said " I would have guessed boiling water but I bow to your expertise, Mrs Crutchlow" and handed her the package. I went into the garden for some air and came upon Ned finishing off his ornate covered seat beneath the large Beech tree. I complimented him on his magnificent erection and said I was very much looking forward to taking advantage of it when the weather improved. Ned is a good fellow and I must say, keen to better himself. I know he reads and often tries to impress with his growing lexicon. This morning, he informed me that Farmer Clamp has replaced his 'diseased' cock. I believe he meant 'deceased', yet I did not comment upon it and left him happy with his crevice tool. I encountered Titty Clamp in the lane and said I had heard news of her father's cock and enquired if he was content with it? She said he appeared to be and stated I would be very welcome to view it if the fancy took me. I shall now spend much of the day alone with my thoughts and look hopefully towards the coming New Year, oh and yes, there are the crabs to finish off later.

Sunday 30th December 1807

Dear Diary,
So much has occurred in so little time. On Friday I visited upon Mr Fairweather and we ventured to Neston to meet up with some gentlemen acquantances of his. I was very nervous. As you know I am fond of and used to balls and the social intercourse that ensues throughout the night but I have never been invited into a gentleman's clique and wander from hostelry to inn cavorting and carousing for an evening. I am also not one who normally indulges in alcoholic beverages but on this occasion my apprehension at not fitting into the clique spurred me on to cast aside my inhibitions. I did drink and cavort and carouse and it was a very merry eve indeed. Mr Fairweather and I became better acquainted and I found his friends most agreeable. I confess, only to you, that I came to feel more for Mr Fairweather than a usual friendship. We returned to his residence in the early hours but I was unable to sleep with the events, experiences and sights of the night spinning about my head. I returned home the next morning to happily find Mrs Norris gone but there was news from Mr Ashforth contained in an epistle waiting upon the mantle. He had spent much of the festive period with his old acquantance Titus Canby and he was to tour abroad with him and he did not see any occasion in the future where he would be at liberty to call upon me again. I cannot say I was greatly disturbed by this news as my head in recent days has been filled with another. As if summoned by the fates Mr Fairweather called upon me in the afternoon as I had absent-mindedly forgotten an article of clothing, how careless of me, and he came to return it. I told him of Mr Ashforth's epistle and the events therein and he was most empathetic. I took a deep breath and revealed my true feelings for him. I was aware that I was at risk of him leaving me for ever but I have been taught to believe that honesty is of the greatest importance especially when it comes to affairs of the heart. Mr Fairweather was equally honest and, looking me in the eyes, said he could not reciprocate but cherished our friendship and hoped it would continue.
I have no one to discuss and share these matters with, except you. I ardently hope I can hold onto Mr Fairweather's friendship, accept only his friendship and that my revelation will not change his opinion of me. Time will tell. Enough. My eyes are filling and I do not wish to blot you.

Friday 28th December 1807

Dear Diary,
Be still, my beating heart. Wish me luck.

Thursday 27th December 1807

Dear Diary,
I fear I have eaten too much again. Each year I always vow to eat in moderation but fail magnificently. I ventured out for a ride upon Cobbler's Knob. Once atop, I was greatly troubled by wind. I cannot remember the last time I was blown so. I returned to the Grange and was informed that I had missed Mr Fairweather who had called upon me. It was not bad news though. He has invited me to call upon him tomorrow and we are to spend an evening out in the local hostelries with some gentlemen acquaintances of his. I must confess I am a little apprehensive and hope that I shall fit into his manly clique.

Tuesday 25th December 1807

Dear Diary,

Christmas in the bosom of one's family is a great joy, but I fear when it includes Mrs Norris's bosom also, it is a bosom too far. I expect many a young lady would have been happy to wake up this morning with a small portion of the bosom that woman greedily possesses. It is a great shame and mystery to me why that awful pug that is permanently clasped to her breast, is not suffocated. She remained in her room yesterday and did not take part in the searching for, collection and lighting of the Yule log. She did not even accompany us to the Chapel to attend the Midnight service. Miss Lott was upon the Parson's organ and I surmise it was she who I overheard practising last week.

Mrs Norris ventured down this morning as we gathered around the tree to exchange gifts. Her nose was still quite swollen from the goose attack, and I do declare my gift of a lace handkerchief was a joyous and delightfully inappropriate gift under the circumstances. Not even her gift of hand knitted stockings, (and I trust it was not by her hand), could dampen the glow I felt inside. Mrs Crutchlow lay on a magnificent feast, although Mrs Norris did not partake of the goose. I write now upon my bed and I ache from mastication. My final thoughts of the day are of Mr Fairweather, wherever and whoever he is with. I hope he has had a Happy Christmas and can only hope that his final thoughts might be of me.

Sunday 23rd December 1807

Dear Diary,
I have had an early Christmas present sent by the happy and joyous fates who have smiled down on me today. I rose reluctantly and descended to face a day in close proximity to Mrs Norris and her rodent. By noon my face was aching through maintaining a fixed smile whenever she discovered my various hiding places. I am certain there is Blood Hound blood in her and I can only surmise as to how it got there. Whilst she was "entertaining" me, this afternoon, with her thrilling tales of ' Cushions I have embroidered', we espied Titty Clamp approaching up the drive, fetching the goose for the Christmas feast. Mrs Norris was keen to examine it at close quarters and so we ventured into the Scullery. Mrs Crutchlow bristled as Mrs Norris swept in and I noticed she tightened her grip on the cleaver she was brandishing. Mrs Norris approached the bird lying limply upon the table top and prodded it's breast and let out a disappointed tut! I cannot say whether it was the prod, the tut or the bark of the beast clutched to Mrs Norris's expansive breast that did it, but at that moment, to everyone's amazement, the bird came to life and began to flap frantically. Mrs Norris stepped back with a scream , flinging her arms wide and I saw the pug fly through the air and land in a large pot of onion soup upon the stove. The bird had regained it's feet and flew at Mrs Norris and latched onto her nose with it's beak. I have never heard such a commotion, Mrs Norris's screams, the yelps of her pug swimming in the pot, the goose and a variety of new and interesting words that emanated from Mrs Crutchlow's direction. At that moment the outside door opened and Ned stepped in upon the scene. He quickly jumped back out closely pursued by Mrs Norris, who had seen a means of escape, and the angry goose and then Mrs Crutchlow and her cleaver. How I have laughed since at the sight of Mrs Norris, skirts hitched up hobbling across the lawn being chased by the goose and Mrs Crutchlow with a cleaver. They passed poor Titty, returning home, who stood aghast at the sight. The evening has been dull in comparison, and Fanny, Jane and I have had to avoid each others gaze for fear of erupting into raucous tittering. Mrs Norris is retired to her room and Mother is comforting her. The Pug is abed also and as subdued as I have ever seen it. The goose is plucked and hanging in the larder. There was no soup at dinner.

Saturday 22nd December 1807

Dear Diary,
We are returned from Netherton. Such an eve of thespic delights, the costumes, the scenery and the smell of grease paint, all brought back my desire to tread the boards myself once more. My Dick (Whittington) is legendary in these parts and is oft talked of amongst those who have been lucky enough to see it. I was able to acquaint my family with Mr Ashforth's Goolies who were also in attendance. Father had booked rooms at the Inn for the night but I scarcely slept due to all the unfamiliar creaks and groans that ensued throughout the night. I shall have to have to retire earlier tonight in compensation. The weather has turned milder and the frost that has been ever present this past week has thawed. As I sit now, I am watching a Robin on the ivy outside my window. He is singing a merry tune and no doubt overjoyed himself that the frost has gone....oh, he is away, panicked by the approach of a carriage. Heaven help us, Mrs Norris is come!